


And when I go down for you...

by pianoforeplay



Category: U2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-20
Updated: 2011-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-14 22:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Larry doesn't know how to ask for what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And when I go down for you...

The first time he asks, they're halfway between Columbus and Washington D.C. and about three thousand feet in the air, crammed inside the plane's too-small bathroom, a mess of arms and legs and fevered mouths. The faucet on the sink digs into the small of Larry's back, his shoulder rammed up against the mirror and he has one hand wrapped around the back of Edge's neck, his teeth scraping along the shell of Edge's ear, breath frantic.

"Let me... fuck, _let me_..." He's pushing with his hips, his foot braced against the opposite wall for leverage and has his tongue in Edge's ear and Edge is responding by pulling back and shoving his hand down the front of Larry's jeans. It only takes three hard jerks before Edge has to shove his tongue into Larry's mouth to muffle the sounds, their moans mingled together as Edge thrusts against the jut of Larry's hips and shudders hard.

:::

The second time Larry asks, they're taking advantage of a late departure time in a hotel in Edmonton. Larry has Edge beneath him, a leg on either side of his narrow hips and he's leaning down to kiss over Edge's chest, hands roaming down lean, pale skin as he grumbles contentedly.

Edge reaches up to sink his fingers into Larry's hair, tugging lightly, encouragingly, his back arching upward as Larry's lips and tongue work over a nipple. He bites down gently and gives a tug with his teeth and is rewarded with a high gasp and the push of Edge's erection against the crease of his ass. He grins around the tight nub, tongue flicking again as he gives a smooth roll of his hips for just a small amount of friction. Teasing.

He's been wanting this for weeks. Months. If he's perfectly honest, _years_. He's determined to make it last, to draw it out, to enjoy every second of it, to savor it and revel in it. To make Edge moan and writhe and beg for it with words and sounds and silence.

His hands slide lower to curl around lean, narrow hips as he laps at the center of Edge's chest, reveling in the tickle of hair against his chin, glancing up to catch Edge grinning down at him, eyes dark and expectant. He shifts his weight to wiggle lower before ducking again, lips moving over his pelvis, into darker, coarser curls and Edge's hips buck gently, his legs still comfortably trapped under Larry's weight and, with a grunt, Larry holds him down tighter. His teeth scrape lower before his tongue flicks out, tasting himself mixed in with sweat on Edge's skin. He turns his head and his cheek lightly brushes against Edge's erection, elliciting another quiet gasp. The sound makes him grin and he slides his hands down Edge's thighs and slips lower still, carefully nudging Edge's knees apart with his own.

"Fuck. Larry." Edge's voice is tight and strained and Larry curls his fingers, scratching up the outsides of his thighs as he lets out a breath over Edge's cock and watches the eager twitch with another grin.

Edge thrusts his hips forward suddenly and Larry pulls back before the tip can touch his lips, glancing up and hiding a coy, open-mouthed smile. Edge reaches a hand out to fist the sheets and glares down at Larry, his eyes sparking with a current that goes straight to Larry's cock before he arches his back and lets out a harsh, frustrated groan.

And Larry can't say no to that. Doesn't even want to _pretend_ to and his hands slide to push Edge's hips back down against the mattress as he braces himself, his eyes on Edge's face, his mouth opening and lowering--

"Reg, let's go!" The loud voice is accompanied by an equally loud rap of knuckles on the hotel door and Larry pulls back abruptly, his stomach leaping into his throat in a thouroughly mood-breaking way as Edge pulls his legs back and pushes himself into a rough sitting position, hands scrambling for sheets almost demurely.

"I, ehm..." Edge winces as his voice comes out breathless and pauses a moment, swallowing, "I thought we had more time."

"No time for the wicked."

Larry rolls his eyes and mutters, "Rest," under his breath and Edge gives him a look. "You mean rest, B."

"Rest, time. Potatoes and onions. It's all very similiar, isn't it?" Larry bites back a groan and pulls himself off the bed, the voice behind the door continuing oblivously. "Now come on. Don't make me charm a young, beautiful, defenseless cleaning woman into giving me the key to your room."

Edge gives a sigh he knows can be heard through the door and tries to speak calmly, slowly, using small words. "Bono. According to the schedule, we don't have to be in the lobby for another two hours."

"Guess you didn't get the memo."

"We don't _have_ memos."

"It's a new thing we implemented a few days ago. You must've missed the meeting."

"Bono..."

"Come on, Reg. How often do we get to explore _Canada_?" And now Bono's voice has gone from teasing to an admirable whine.

Larry straightens up from collecting his clothing off the floor and glares at the door, focusing every ounce of his will into searing a hole through it and into the middle of his singer's forehead. His concentration is ruined a few seconds later by the feel of Edge's fingers light on his wrist and he turns to see Edge mouthing an, "I'm sorry," before speaking to Bono in full voice, "All right, fine. I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."

Larry swears he can actually hear Bono do a little jig of victory and he rolls his eyes again before locking his gaze on Edge's, trying not to look as hurt and disappointed as he feels. Edge frowns gently and squeezes his wrist in apology, but Larry shrugs it off, pulling away from him to turn and slip his shirt on.

They hear the shuffle of feet by the door again not two seconds later, "Oh, Reg? Do you have any idea where Larry is?" and Larry can't hide the rise of heat in his face and has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

:::

They're in Chicago before Larry's well enough over the previous experience to give it another go. After the show and after the after party, Adam (the only one of the lot who's even remotely close to sober) helps Larry drag Edge into a waiting taxi.

"Do you think you can manage to get him to his room?"

Larry grumbles a little and gives a nod as he pushes Edge further along the back seat and slides in next to him.

Adam's brow furrows and he tilts his head. "Sure you won't need assistance?"

Larry lunges for the door as he feels Edge's fingers beginning to creep along his thigh and he shoots Adam a quick glance. "I'll be fine. Now go take care of Bono before he passes out in some poor girl's lap."

He slams the door closed before he can see the curious look in Adam's eyes and spends the rest of the car ride, ironically, trying to keep Edge's hands _out_ of his trousers.

Once they get back to the hotel and Larry has successfully half-carried Edge up to his room, he gets his own groping time in by exploring Edge's back pockets for the room key. Edge leans heavily against him and lets out a lazy laugh against his neck before taking a broad taste with his tongue. Larry shivers at the sensation and fumbles with the keycard before managing to finally get the door unlocked and opened, sending them both hurtling inside.

They stumble against the near wall, Larry keeping Edge upright by shoving him hard against it, both breathing heavy and laughing at the same time. Larry buries his face in Edge's neck and inhales, breathing in his sweat-and-alcohol scent and takes his own quick taste. Edge groans happily and arches against him, a hand reaching up to weave into Larry's hair and Larry gives a moan, suddenly smelling his own alcohol-saturated breath against Edge's skin before he bares his teeth, taking a bite that may or may not leave a mark and hears the quiet thunk of the back of Edge's head hitting the wall, accompanied by a high, eager gasp.

Larry answers with a growl and presses his weight harder against him, hands wandering down to tug at Edge's shirt, eager for skin and warmth and sweat. His teeth scrape along Edge's collarbone as he works his hand lower, tugging at the buttons on Edge's jeans and shoving his hand in to feel hot, hard, aching--

He growls as he cups Edge's limp cock through his underwear and Edge gives another low moan, his head rolling against the wall to look down at him.

Larry meets his eyes with a determined glare and pushes aside the cotton of Edge's underwear, fingers curling around him more intimately and giving one, smooth, firm stroke. Edge moans again and his eyes drift closed and then he's leaning forward, hands braced on Larry's biceps for just a second. He murmurs something Larry can't quite catch and then quickly wrenches himself away from the wall, pushes Larry aside and stumbles toward the toilet.

There's the unmistakable sound of porcelain hitting porcelain and knees hitting linoleum and Larry forces himself to tune out the rest as he leans his forehead against the wall and counts silently to himself.

When he reaches ten, he pushes himself up, walks to the kitchenette for a glass of water and heads for the bathroom.

:::

Two weeks, eight fucks, six handjobs, an inumerable amount of make-out sessions later and Larry wants it so bad he can very nearly _taste_ it and he knows he's just one step away from outright _begging_. He feels his whole body buzzing with need for it nearly constantly, skin itching, tongue craving and he swears everyone around him must be able to see it in his eyes. Except for Edge, of course.

Hell, at the moment, the only things Edge is interested in are chord changes and guitar pedals.

Larry waits for him just off the side of the stage, arms crossed to keep from fidgeting, his eyes intent on the exchange between Edge and Dallas just twenty feet away. He fails to notice when Adam wanders up beside him and jumps when he hears the familiar voice.

"You all right?"

Larry takes a second to force his stomach back into its rightful place and clears his throat, wincing as his voice comes out a bit tighter than he intends. "Yeah. Fine."

"Mmmm."

A puff of cigarette smoke wafts past Larry's nose and he raises an eyebrow. "Mmmm?"

Adam grins a little and Larry looks over at him, but Adam offers no further explanation. They stare at each other for a long moment and then Adam's eyes flicker over to Edge and then back once again to Larry as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and offers it. He exhales another slow plume of smoke, "Here."

Larry eyes it a moment and then tentatively takes it from his fingers, bringing it to his lips and inhaling just as Adam's warm voice murmurs low, "It'll help take the edge off."

:::

Two days later, Larry's finally had enough. They pull a runner on the first night in Rotterdam and Larry jumps into the car with Edge before anyone can protest or even notice. He can feel the energy swirling all around him, applause still ringing in his ears, adrenaline seeping from his skin and when his eyes finally settle on Edge's, he has to curl his fingers hard into his thigh to keep back a growl.

They're at the hotel in less than twenty minutes and up in Larry's room in just over twenty-two. In twenty-five minutes time, Larry has most of Edge's clothes off and a good amount of his own and he's shoving Edge onto the bed and crawling over him, hands holding Edge down by his shoulders, lips and teeth wandering over his chest and neck and upper arms.

Edge struggles beneath him to kick his jeans off and Larry mistakes it for him trying to change the balance, to take control and he tightens his grip on Edge's upper body, holding him firmly to the bed as he leans down and nips at his bottom lip, "Let me do this." His tongue swipes out immediately, licking at the light mark and growling against him, "You're _going_ to let me do this."

Edge answers with a high whine, his hips thrusting up, cock brushing against Larry's inner thigh and Larry shifts abruptly, stealing a wet, hungry kiss as he gracelessly slips out of his own jeans and kicks them to the floor. He breaks the kiss with a gasp for breath and catches the look of pure _want_ in Edge's eyes before he's sliding down and pushing him up. There's no time for savouring here. All the desire to draw this out, to make it last, has vanished, stolen by the possibility of some new kind of interruption that he doesn't have the imagination to think up, but could doubtless exist. He's focused now. Determined. This is far beyond wanting and needing and aching. This is revenge, almost. Vindication or validation or hell, his fucking _dues_.

He's _earned_ this. And now he's going to take it.

Larry settles one hand on Edge's thigh, the other around the base of his erection in a firm squeeze and Edge's hips buck forward in response. That's all he needs before he's leaning forward, replacing his hand with his mouth, wet lips sliding around and down and he can't help a moan as the heavy weight of Edge's cock rests on his tongue. He stills for a moment, just holding him and then swallows a tiny bit, cheeks hollowing as Edge lets out a high gasp above him.

"Fuck, Larry... _Lar'_ \--"

His tongue flicks out, tasting the bead of moisture on the tip and then swirling around the head and Edge's legs spread wider, the heel of one foot pressing into the mattress as he struggles to not thrust into Larry's mouth. Larry shifts his weight a bit, bracing himself and adjusting his angle as his head bobs in a slow, thorough movement, tongue broad along the underside of him with each downward motion, his throat widening to take all he can.

And finally Edge gives in with a strangled moan, his hips snapping forward, nearly gagging Larry who roughly pushes him down harder and takes him deep, deep into his throat, one hand moving to grip the root of him and then pulling back just as he feels Edge's cock pulse and release, thick, warm fluid suddenly filling his mouth and he has to breathe hard through his nose as he swallows it, drinks it down, finally taking the chance to savour his earnings.

He lets out a quiet moan as his tongue licks up the small amount he couldn't quite swallow, the sound mingling with Edge's and he glances up, unable to hide the pure _pride_ in his eyes. He sits up slowly, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his wrist and Edge's eyes open to look at him, chest still rising and falling in heavy breaths as he grins at him.

"Jesus, Lar'. You could've just _said_."

 

 **Two Months Prior:**  
Larry's hands grip the sheets as he pushes up hard against the body covering his, his hips and back moving and arching in a smooth, but obviously desperate rhythm. "Fuck... _fuck_ , Edge... come on..."

The response is a quick, harsh thrust, the force of which pushes him down into the mattress and he turns his face into the pillow, letting out another heavy grunt as his hands scramble for something - anything - to hold onto.

"Fuck! Fuckin'... Edge... _Edge_ \--" His body tightens and then shudders as every nerve in his body lets loose and the space between his stomach and the sheets is drenched with sticky wetness. He gives a fleeting thought at the mess he's making, but it's quickly forgotten as Edge gives one, two, three frantic jerks into him and lets out a strangled moan, his body tensing, shuddering into two more desperate thruts and then collapsing. Larry feels the warmth coursing into him and his body instinctively wraps tight around it before giving a grunt as Edge's weight presses fully onto his back.

They lie quietly for a long moment and then Larry shifts a little, grunting again as his elbow meets Edge's side, nudging.

"Can't-- breathe."

Edge laughs quietly and reaches up a weary hand to the back of Larry's head, pushing him playfully face first into the pillow before slipping out and rolling over onto his back beside him. Larry grunts and punches Edge's arm as he rolls over and they both stare up at the ceiling, the sounds of heavy breathing filling the otherwise almost awkward silence.

Larry waits for his heart to stop pounding in his chest and clears his throat. "Well, ehm. I guess that means you feel the same."

He turns his head when he catches the movement from the corner of his eyes and is met with a slow, content smile.

"Yeah. You could say that."

 

 **end.**

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the occasion of melissau2's birth. Beta'd by shihadchick, jigofspite and frog4. Title from the DMB song "Hunger for the Great Light" and initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/9199.html) on 3/30/2006.


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